


The Proposal

by Zeke Black (istia)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, POV Ezra Standish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 22:17:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15543330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istia/pseuds/Zeke%20Black
Summary: Ezra's patience finally pays off.





	The Proposal

"Here. Do your worst."

He bobbled the helmet Chris tossed him before getting a good grip on it. Holding it in both hands, he stared across its plain, domed surface at Chris's bent head. "I beg your pardon?"

Chris was securing his own helmet in its resting place on the Fat Bob. His own very distinctive black helmet, shiny as a sunny day in hell and augmented with artistic--and somewhat shudderingly horrific--white swirls that, when you stared at them, resolved into distorted skulls with gaping mouths. Josiah's flair with a brush, particularly when he had a few, or not so few, Jack Daniel's under his belt, was undeniably...special.

Chris's gravelly voice was low as he spoke around the cheroot clenched between his teeth. "Put your mark on it. You've been bugging me long enough to let you do it."

Past a sudden ringing in his ears, Ezra became aware that his mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut, and made not even the slightest token effort to restrain the glee that flooded his body like an adrenaline rush.

"You mean I can personalize it. Brand it with outrageously unmistakable signs of my very own idiosyncratic personality."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't make a freaking big deal of it, all right. I just got bitching tired of your nagging."

Ezra's grin escaped his control. "Because it's _mine_. My very own personal helmet that nobody else in the entire world can touch again. Ever. All _mine_."

Chris gave the sky a resigned look.

Ezra took a single long step forward that brought him up against Chris's lean body, warm and supple in his butter-soft black leathers. He tilted his head to whisper in Chris's ear: "I accept your gracious proposal, Mr. Larabee."

He sealed the bond with a slow swipe of his tongue across Chris's cheek, then along the rough stubbled line of his jaw and down his throat, which, as always, made Chris shudder and his eyes flutter closed.

Ezra glanced at the helmet cradled in his arm, then leaned in toward Chris's still, waiting lips.

"All mine. _Both_ of you. I knew you'd see things my way eventually."

Then Chris, turning his head to spit out the cheroot, was jerking him forward, their bodies sliding familiarly against each other, arms moving with the surety of synchronised swimmers, and Ezra dropped the helmet as he claimed his true prize.


End file.
